Beautiful to Look Upon, Dangerous to Touch
by chivalry-is-dead
Summary: One year after the events in A Monster in Paris, Francoeur and the gang embark on a new adventure as Raoul and Emile, searching for a special anniversary present for Lucille, set off another series of events that will rock not only Paris, but France itself! FrancoeurXOC, LucilleXRaoul, EmileXMaud
1. Resume

**chiv-id: Not really going to go much into detail, I've been focused on college, but as soon as I saw this movie, my creative juices started flowing again. If you have not seen _A Monster in Paris_, I highly recommend you go watch it before you read this fic because it has a lot of spoilers. There are free versions of it on Youtube in English and even French clips of certain songs. I personally like the French voice actor for Francoeur (one of the main leads), Matheiu Chedid or -M-, but I don't dislike Sean Lennon as the English voice actor. And yes, he is the son of John Lennon and Yoko Ono.**

**The songs are excellent, the visual aspect is spot on, and it's actually a refreshing breath of cinematic air. French movies are usually reserved, and this isn't an exception, but the romantic (not just love) atmosphere is something that has been missing from a lot of movies lately. That, and I absolutely love Francoeur, he's one of my top favorite characters now.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own A Monster in Paris, that goes to Bibo and Europa.**

**Summary:**

**_One year after the defeating Commissioner Maynott and lowering the water level of La Seine, with the rumors of the Monster in Paris having stopped circulating, Francoeur and the gang finally have the peace they'd sought, but not everything is as it seems._**

**_ Lucille, making it big with Francoeur at the L'Oiseau Rare (Rare Bird), has her name in papers around the world and has been invited to do a national tour, but is worried about performing on a larger stage. Raoul, still in the process of reconstructing his Catherine and struggling to deliver materials on time without her, is scrounging what little funds he has to buying Lucille an engagement ring, all the while trying to find a way to propose. Emile had gotten some acclaim with his films and is offered to join a prestigious film school in London, but cannot go with Maud, now his wife, who had gotten some bad news about her mother and is forced to stay in Paris._**

**_And Francoeur, after living as a gigantic flea, has had a few problems now and then with his natural instincts - for instance, wanting to suck blood, as unfortunate a monster stereotype it is. Luckily, the Professor is able to help his most basic needs, but what Francoeur now seems most curious about is: love. Lucille and Raoul, Emile and Maud, his friends all seem to have been afflicted with the condition except him, and he realizes with some irony he's been singing about the subject without ever having knowledge of it, even though he lives in the City of Love. Follow Francoeur and his friends as they embarks on a new adventure, filled with some new characters, new places, and new feelings that await our singing flea friend._**

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1911. Paris was bustling and roaring in a golden age of peace dedicated to trends and love. The Seine, once fearfully rising to worrying levels, had been defeated by the large sunflowers that had flowered in the summery gray sky of Paris one year ago. A corrupt Commissioner and a "Monster of Paris" had been gotten rid of simultaneously in the same year and the City of Love enjoyed one of the greatest internationally-recognized talents: Lucille and Franceour, the sweetest and most sensational pair of singing and dancing performers that entertained many at the now infamous _L'Oiseau Rare_ (Rare Bird). Crime was also at an all-time low due to the newly instated Commissioner Pate, who often was seen with the Madame Carlotta, owner of _L'Oiseau Rare_ and aunt of Lucille, patrolling the streets by bike. It was also a scientifically-revolutionary time as one of the most brilliant minds of the century, only mysteriously known as the Professor, began to confer with some of the greatest minds around the world to develop new inventions dedicated to the long-lasting good times.

And amongst the bustle and celebration that could be seen on the plentiful streets of this dazzling city were a pair of men who were at the center of it all. In fact...you could say they were the cause of this sudden Parisian debut, but these friends had just one more important event to play...

"C'mon Emile, we've got to get all of these to Madame Hubert before noon!" Raoul grunted as he shoved the last of the goods onto Emile's car. The shorter man, Emile, rushed to his friend's side after closing the gate to the supplier's home, tipping his hat to the kind farmer woman before leaving. It was a normal morning for these two friends, though it was drastically different from the year before. Raoul, once a successful if not dangerously reckless delivery man, had been reduced to using a bike after the unfortunate and watery demise of his beloved "Catherine", a machine he'd built by hand and included many oddities and quirks that could be considered unique. Emile, on the other hand, had been a bike-rider until current circumstances allowed him some new income, such as the taking off of his projection theatre that landed him some major deals in the cinematic world. The car in which Raoul was shoving his last sack of flour on was the 1911 Penn Model 30, imported from the good old USA itself, and a vehicle that Emile took much pride in owning. Hours of driving around with Maud, his wife of 4 months now, had been one of the greatest joys since its acquisition.

"Raoul, I understand the urgency, but I don't think my car can handle much more," Emile warned as he pushed the sack of flour from the bottom while Raoul tied it firmly to the back, "It's not a delivery truck, you know?"

"Emile, you think I don't know that?" the delivery man put a foot on the flour and pushed with all his might while pulling the rope, securing the goods, "I mean, I used to own the best delivery truck in the world! _Catherine_! Oh, Catherine, may your wheels keep spinning in machine-heaven..." Emile stopped pushing when Raoul finished and patted his friend's shoulder, which had slumped after talking about his beloved vehicle.

"I'm sure she's enjoying it a lot, Raoul," Emile then took a look at his car's sagging bumper, "But if we want to get this delivery there on time, we have to get going." Raoul shook his head and nodded to Emile before running to the driver's side and getting in. Emile wasted no time in joining Raoul on the passenger's side and gripped the door, getting ready for the wild ride.

"Oh, and thanks for letting me borrow your car again Emile, it's only until I can get another truck...or make a Catherine II!" Raoul started spouting enthusiastically again, to which Emile gave a small laughing breath. It had already been a year since Raoul lost Catherine, and he'd only gathered a fifth of the parts he'd made the behemoth with. And many of those parts had been bought cheap, the only way Raoul could afford anything anymore.

"You're welcooooommmMMMEEEEE!" Emile started off courteously then finished in a scream as Raoul punched the gas pedal and jerked them into rushing down the street. Just another day in the life and times of Raoul and Emile, the smaller man thought frantically as they narrowly dodged newspaper vendors and couples of bikes. Emile had to pause his thoughts as a flyer that had been flying carefree through the air smacked against the windshield, the Parisian leaning out the window quickly to grab at it before it obscured Raoul's vision. Not that his driving could get any worse. Emile stared at the flyer for a few seconds before grinning, smoothing out the frayed and dirtied edges as he read the words '**Lucille and Francoeur**' in big letters at the top of the picture. The two of them were smiling, Franceour's big blue face hidden by the white mask and wide-brimmed chapeaux, and Lucille's angelic presence heightened by the small wings protruding from her back.

"Hey Raoul, you know, your girlfriend's pretty popular," Emile teased and Raoul flashed his gaze over to him before laughing.

"Of course she is! Her voice is something, _isn't_ it?" the man sighed and relaxed in his posture, causing Emile to panic and grab his sleeve to get Raoul to focus. The car swerved for a few seconds before getting back on track, Emile breathing a big sigh of relief before putting on an apprehensive air, quietly observing Raoul until the married man started to open his mouth.

"I know what you're going to say Emile, and I'm going to say it again: _no_," the black-haired French man stubbornly gripped the wheel as he concentrated on driving, "And if you were in my position, you'd say the same thing."

"Yeah, I guess, maybe," the brunette conceded for a second, scratching the back of his head nervously, "Or maybe not. I mean, I trust Maud, and love her to death. I wouldn't want to put any of the responsibility on her if I could, but she's told me that if we were ever in trouble - financially - she'd support me and we'd get through it together." Emile gestured to him meaningfully, trying to get through to the proud delivery man who was still driving haphazardly through the streets to get to their destination.

"Well, you're married, it's different," Raoul glared at Emile again before sighing, "Lucille doesn't need to know, okay? I want to be able to support her, but..."

"It's hard to do when your girlfriend is the breadwinner," Emile finished and again received a glare that Emile pulled his hat down to hide from it.

"I mean, I don't mind," Raoul shrugged, trying to shirk the obvious irritation that was creeping up his spine, "She's doing what she loves, and I'm happy for her. And you know what? Lucille gets clothes for free now, because it racks up business for whoever sold them to her! She's a star, and I couldn't be prouder." It was true, Raoul was happy for her, ecstatic even, to see her sing every night with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. He would do anything to keep her smiling...

"Raoul, the road!" Emile had to drag the lovelorn Parisian back to reality when he strayed off the road. Raoul screamed as he jerked the wheel, his daydreams having steered the car onto the sidewalk. Pedestrians dodged left and right before shaking their fists at the pair in the rearview mirror. Raoul waved sheepishly before breathing heavily and glancing back at Emile.

"Look, just don't tell Lucille. She's happy and I want to keep it that way. I don't want her worrying about _my_ money problems," Raoul nodded affirmatively, a stern expression crossing his normally easy-going face.

"Quite gentlemanly of you, Raoul," Emile smiled slightly before putting on another worried face, "However, I don't think you can keep it up for long. Lucille's been asking questions about you, why you're gone all the time and why you haven't showed up for any of her shows lately. She's afraid she's losing you. You mean a lot to her."

"What, she told you all of that?"

"No, she told Maud, one girlfriend to another apparently," Emile fixed his hat after they went over another bumpy cobblestone road, "And then to me, wife to husband. She also mentioned Lucille was furious yesterday for some reason." Raoul took a moment to think, a vague feeling tickling the edge of his conscious before he stopped the car suddenly, pitching Emile forward into the dash. The deliveryman himself started knocking his head against the steering wheel repeatedly, causing many eyes to be drawn to the strange sight.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," Raoul then yelled when he accidentally smacked his forehead against the horn, "Stupid car!" Emile had to stop Raoul from wrecking his vehicle before he settling the upset Parisian.

"Don't take it out on my car, Raoul," the smaller man scolded before sitting back down in the passenger's seat, "Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about?" Raoul groaned and slouched in the seat, sliding down until only his hair was visible from outside the car.

"Our anniversary was yesterday," Raoul gripped his face with guilt, giving another frustrated and dismayed grunt. Emile crossed his arms in response and sighed again in disappointment. The casanova was quite serious about love, which is why he became so popular. Emile's romance films had gotten him some presitige amongst the film makers around the world and it was his personal opinion that everyone should know about the love that happened daily in Paris. Now, he was focused on one particular love that was having itself a really bad day.

"Well, what're you going to do about it?" Emile raised his shoulders as he scrutinized the man who was curling into a ball as he spoke. It wasn't long until a peculiar dawning seemed to spread across Raoul's face before he set the car in gear again.

"Finish this delivery then pay a visit to the good old Professor," Raoul smirked, causing Emile to give an exasperated and helpless sound.

"Raoul, the Professor might've been grateful for that sunflower accident," Emile had to grab at the door again as Raoul swung a wide right, "But it doesn't mean he's going to be doing you anymore favors. If anything, you used it up last time when you helped out Francoeur." Raoul looked over at Emile with a undefeated look and the smaller man stared back worriedly.

"_Raoul_..." Emile drew out the man's name in expectant dread, "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking...that you still have a pretty good credit with the Professor, _Emile_," Raoul did the same thing as his companion, grinning ear to ear, "If you do me this, I promise I'll owe you a hundred favors." Emile rolled his eyes and shook his head. Raoul really wasn't in the position to be owing favors, but when he saw the Parisian's sad eyes, he couldn't really turn his closest friend down.

"Well, we have to get there in one - " Emile was again heaved forward when Raoul stopped suddenly, the crazy delivery man spreading his arms to gesture to the bakery, "Ughh...and we're here, aren't we?"

"Yup! So, that's a deal then?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Mmmnn...no, not really."

"Thought so."

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**chiv-id: So, again, if you have no idea what's going on, who these people are, you NEED TO WATCH THE MOVIE. It is something I highly recommend, and again, there are totally free versions in good quality on Youtube. For those of you who've seen the film, I hope this gives you a good insight on how the story is starting and how it is going to unfold. So, until the next chapter, bye guys!**


	2. Problemes du Coeur

**chiv-id: Running marathon time! I will try to post chapters as often as I can, but I cannot guarantee that they'll come out rapid fire. Again, watch the movie if you haven't already. Oh, and the title for this chapter is "Troubles of the Heart".**

**Disclaimer: I don't own A Monster in Paris, Bibo and Europa do.**

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"Ughhh!" Francoeur had to duck when Lucille started throwing clothes around in the dressing room, "I cannot believe he forgot! I had the champagne, the roses, the whole _L'Oiseau Rare_ cleared out just for the-the two of us and he forgot!" The patient flea-humanoid was sitting at the piano, waiting for the understandable tirade his lady friend was throwing to stop. He unsuccessfully dodged dresses, gloves, jackets, and even a corset in her upset mood, but Francoeur just peeled off the soft projectiles as he watched the woman carefully. Raoul, her boyfriend and long-time childhood friend, had not shown up last night during the supposed anniversary dinner. And Francoeur himself was assigned task of playing romantic guitar music while the two dined, but found himself joining Lucille instead while she got drunk off the champagne that was untouched until the clock struck 12:01 AM. He didn't have any alcohol that night, but it was a rare and funny chance to see the woman striking up an odd yodeling that mirrored that of Albert's, the old snooty waiter who'd been arrested a year before.

"Ohhh..." Lucille seemed to have finally calmed down and slumped against the couch near the wall, Francoeur getting up to sit with her, "Turn off the lights on the boudoir, please, Francoeur? I drank too much champagne last night, and I need to get some rest before we open up again in the evening." He did as he was told, but stared at the light briefly to admire the glow before doing so. Francoeur may have been enlarged and gifted with a sweet singing voice, but his bug-tendencies still remained. He immediately returned to his friend's side, letting Lucille cuddle against his side while Francoeur started humming. Lucille always seemed to be getting upset nowadays, the blue flea noticed, and it was apparently his job to quell the hell that Raoul stirred every time he missed an important performance or date.

"Raoul used to be here every night," Lucille sniffed and laid her head against Francoeur's thorax, the humming lulling her to a peaceful state, "Behind the stage or at a table. And-and you'd always know when he was there because he would cheer the loudest, you know?" Francoeur nodded before trilling, one of his smaller arms going to pet Lucille's head.

"I asked Maud if she or Emile know where he goes to all the time, but she says it's something I have to ask him on my own," Lucille raised her eyes to Francoeur and the bug stared back at her inquisitively, "I can't do that if he's not here, though...right?" Francoeur blinked before purring and trilling an answer she couldn't understand, but his hands on her head was a nice comforting gesture nonetheless. Lucille wished he could speak sometimes, to be able to hold a conversation with the gentle bug, but the Professor said that the stable binding of the growth formula and the Atomize-a-Tune were perfect. If he were to add another chemical serum into the mix, it would just get complicated and may even cause harm to Francoeur due to the instability it would cause. So, she left it alone and was satisfied with the perfect listener that Francoeur turned out to be.

"Thank you Francoeur, you are a good friend," Lucille eventually went to sleep and the blue flea eased her head off of him, covering her with one of the many large jackets that were in the room. Francoeur returned to the piano, picking up a pencil and jotting down more notes on the sheets in front of him while pressing the keys softly. The blue insect had been rather busy these days, composing as well as performing, and even through all the hectic drama his human friends were involved in, he was happy to take some time off to do some relaxation via music. However, it wasn't easy being an enlarged flea, he came to realize.

A month after they'd gotten Maynott arrested and the Seine drained, Francoeur had noticed that he still craved blood. Yes, _blood_. As a flea, it was in his nature to live off the blood of other animals that were his hosts, but the unfortunate side effect to being 'bigger' was that the cravings were stronger. And the amount of blood he needed to survive was also significantly larger. It had been his greatest shame when he almost fed off of Lucille when her back was turned, one week after his regrowth. Francoeur became strict with his hunger, but it didn't help as he just grew weaker and weaker, unsure of what to do since he'd just shaken off the 'monster' title. One night, Francoeur had nearly collapsed during a performance and it took all he had to feign a healthy disposition to his worried friends. Once they'd gone to bed, Francoeur snuck out to the Professor who was thankfully still awake, crawling rather weakly to his front door for help. The scientific Parisian diagnosed him anemic and gave him a few bags of animal blood from a small butcher's shop that was a few miles away from Paris, all legally paid for. However, the Professor understood that this was not a good solution for the problem, seeing as how unusual it was to buy bags of blood every week. So, the Professor had Francoeur undergo a few tests to understand his new pathology.

"Mmmm...Raoul, where are you?" a slightly hungover Lucille murmured and Francoeur got up to tighten the jacket around her again, the angelic little human snuggling into the material. Due to his size, Francoeur was told that he had longer longevity that could be extended longer if given treatment, and his natural desire to seek a mate was easy enough to halt, but it was the blood-sucking that was the problem. Fleas could not go on without blood, so the Professor had to buy a few farm animals to bleed much to Francoeur's dismay. And despite that dismay, every night, late after the City of Paris dimmed, Francoeur would secretly escape to the Professor's lab to go for his daily intake of blood. He put the pencil down as he brooded on the peculiarity of his condition. If he'd just stayed a normal flea, Francoeur would have had no problem draining the miniscule amounts of blood he needed, settled down with a female flea, had several hundred children, then passed away as any other insect of his kind would do.

Now...Francoeur had been awakened. Transcending the barrier between an instinctual creature to a sentient being, Francoeur shook his head and knew he'd never been able to go back to that life. That was the reason why he'd continued to follow Mademoiselle Lucille even though they'd assumed he'd died, hopping from the chapeaux that he'd managed to hang onto before scrambling up to Lucille's ear. Francoeur wanted to sing and dance with her, desperately, and he knew that she needed him as much as he needed her when he'd seen her cry that fateful night. He loved her in that way, as both a best friend and partner-for-life in showbusiness. Raoul had once or twice misunderstood a situation when she'd pose for the cameras with him, but Francoeur never had any feelings romantically for the woman.

This as the second thing bothering him tonight. Besides his current (though natural as the Professor explained) craving for blood, Francoeur had often sang about love though he had no idea what it was. He had friendship-love for Lucille and all of his friends, love for music, and love for watching Paris when all the lights of the city went up. _True_ love, however, was a mystery to the insect, and he wondered about it often. Could he ever fall in love? And more importantly, could anyone love him back?

"Francoeur...Francoeur?" a soft voice shook him from his reverie and his yellow-tinged eyes blinked before glancing at the source, "Is she still upset over Raoul, my dear?" Madame Carlotta was at his shoulder, her updo just reaching the middle of his arms, peering behind him to stare at her niece. She sighed and sat next to him at the edge of the piano seat, but moved over when Franceour gave the slightly curvaceous woman more room to sit.

"I don't even need to ask, do I?" Carlotta put her hands in her lap and looked over at Lucille sadly, "The poor girl's worrying herself sick over Raoul. If only that man would come every week or so...that's not too much to ask is it?" Francoeur was a confidant to many since he couldn't talk, but he wished sometimes that they wouldn't ask rhetorical questions that Francoeur couldn't answer. Especially if the talker knew the answer already.

"I haven't even gotten her answer to Monsieur Grady's invitation to travel abroad," Carlotta raised her arm to touch Francoeur on his sleeve and looked at the large insectoid somewhat proudly, "And what an honor it is! Oh Francoeur, can you imagine? Lucille, on stage, at Carnegie Hall!" He clicked his mandibles excitedly, nodding with a big smile. Francoeur himself was ecstatic since the invitation was extended to him as well, and he'd been reading all about New York from the journals and magazines he'd seen at the Professor's laboratory. The sheer amount of cultural and artistic heritage there, Francoeur wanted to see and hear at all. And the important part: PERFORM there! His dreams flew him higher than he could jump sometimes as he viewed the Empire State Building flashing and the Statue of Liberty, the majestic French sculpture, winking at him from afar during his tumultuous sleep. Both Carlotta and Francoeur sighed in unison, the insect nodding in agreement before staring at Lucille.

"If only she had your enthusiasm...I used to have to scold her about having those dreams of getting out of singing at the _L'Oiseau Rare_, but since Raoul's been missing all of her performances..." Carlotta gave a frustrated, yet lady-like growl, "Francoeur, if you find him, slap him for me, would you, dear? If he really loves her, Raoul should be standing by her, not running away." Carlotta shook her head and stood up, putting a few stray hairs back in place before walking to Lucille and kissing her forehead. She put another jacket on the younger woman in a loving gesture, one hand smoothing all the wrinkles out so that it laid on her softly and perfectly.

"I'll come back when the dinner crowd starts coming in, so just let her rest for now Francoeur," the Madame assured him as she left the dressing room, but she paused at the doorway to look at him from the side, "Oh, and your arms are showing, dear. Be careful, I could've been an adoring fan!" Madame Carlotta put a hand to her mouth and giggled in her own way, Francoeur looking down to see his smaller pair of arms had indeed slipped out to lay in his lap. He nodded and put them back in his sleeves, tipping his hat to her gratefully while she dipped in return. Madame Carlotta was told almost immediately after the 'Commissioner vs. Monster' incident, and although she fainted at first (like aunt, like niece), Carlotta was accepting and welcomed Francoeur as he truly was with open arms.

As soon as the older French woman had left, Francoeur picked up the pencil again and twirled it in his fingers, staring at the way the wooden implement would dip and spin according to his desires. Francoeur chittered and clicked his mandibles as he felt the hunger come upon him, and he looked at the Western-styled clock. The Professor was probably in his greenhouse right now, and Francoeur had missed his last feed due to Lucille's late un-celebration of her anniversary the other night. He glanced at his beloved friend and angel, watching her steady breathing as he pondered on whether he should leave her as is.

If the young Mademoiselle found that she was left alone, Lucille would no doubt feel abandoned in her condition, but after a few moments of thinking, Francoeur believed it would be better for the fragile girl to be heartbroken than unsafe. Ending the self-bickering, Francoeur slipped off his lovely blue-white attire to wear something less flashy.

However, his own body caught his attention when he passed by the unlit boudoir to get new clothes. Still the same as ever he saw, no shrinking of his hairs or arms, but Francoeur couldn't help but wonder about his previous dilemma: would he ever find someone who could truly love someone as he was? And not friendship, but romance, he firmly asserted. He turned to look at his back in the small mirror, then turned again to look at his front. Francoeur even tried to stand up straighter, which he could do, but at his towering height of 7 feet, he rose above the mirror and only half of his thorax was in view. He bent down to his normal posture and chittered, shaking his head before reaching for a black crisp suit and burgundy vest. For most of his fashion choices, Francoeur left them to Lucille, and often just picked the premade sets of clothing she would lay out for him to take whenever he was in the mood. Lucille argued that with Raoul not around, she had too much time on her hands and seemed to enjoy taking care of the giant insect.

"Mmmm...Francoeur?" the flea halted in place, his shoulders hunched as he smoothed the rim of the black chapeaux he had just donned. Francoeur turned his head slowly to look over at Lucille and breathed a trill to see that she'd just been sleeping-talking. He wrapped a burgundy scarf around his neck and slipped on black gloves to match, noting how the outfit looked much like the one he had dressed up in before as the "Monster in Paris".

Terrible memories surfaced for a few moments as he remembered how people screamed in terror rather than joy at his appearance. Confused and scared, Francoeur was at his most vulnerable that night. He thanked his lucky stars that Lucille had enough good in her heart to see through his terrifying form and see that he was no monster.

Yes, Francoeur took a deep breath in and nodded, he was no monster. In fact, as he looked at himself in the mirror, Francoeur saw that the black-burgundy combination suit was crisp and clean and it looked appropriate and sophisticated on him, even with his great height, delighting on him how much it suited him. He straightened his scarf and posture before heading towards the door. Francoeur paused as he took one last look at Lucille before leaving, only hoping that Raoul would drop by soon to cheer the heartbroken Parisian singer up.

Just before the flea left the building altogether, Francoeur realized a certain truth to love, as demonstrated by Lucille: love was both good and bad, for you could either find true happiness or suffer without it. With that in mind, Francoeur set off for the Professor's greenhouse for his weekly feeding, not sure if love could ever really be explained in any case.

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**chiv-id: ANOTHER CHAPTER DOWN! Keep cheering for more, and of course, leave reviews so that I know I'm doing all right. If there seems to be anything wrong, or something that should be mentioned and I'm forgetting it, please, let me know. It'll only make the fic greater!**


	3. Il a Suivi Ses Pas

**chiv-id: OK, gotta keep going, fingers going at the speed of light people! Wish me luck! If I can get 5 chapters out by the end of the month, I will finally feel like I deserve some rest. Oh and to clear up the previous chapter, I forgot to mention that Lucille was pretty much raging at the same time Raoul was smacking himself in the face with Emile's steering wheel. So, just to let everyone know, THAT WAS ALL HAPPENING AT THE SAME TIME.**

**Also, if anyone has seen the English and French versions of some of the clips or songs, do you notice how the words match their mouths in the English versions but don't in the French? I think that, since it would be difficult and expensive to animate and match French and English dubs, Bibo and Europacorp actually made the film to be originally in English. Interesting, no? Although, I suppose it would be obvious since Bibo Bergeron (director and, no doubt, lead animator) worked on a lot of American and English-speaking movies like Dreamworks' _The Road to El Dorado_ and _Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas_. He's made more movies than that, but those serve as some pretty good examples of his animating style and probably why he'd be more comfortable with English movies.**

**Oh, and apologies, ever since Shout! decided to buy rights to sell Blu-Ray and DVDs of _A Monster in Paris_ in the States, Youtube's been cracking down harder on catching free versions of the movie on their site.  
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**The title for this chapter, I would like to mention, is "Following in His Footsteps". And yes, the titles of these chapters will all be in French, but have no fear, I will post the description right here in this box on the top.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own A Monster in Paris, Bibo and Europa do. I only own this story and any extra characters that will appear.**

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Emile wasn't really sure how Raoul did it, but yet again he was talked into doing something rather ridiculous. About a few minutes ago, Raoul had driven them to the Professor's greenhouse yet again. The tall steel architecture, green and blue tinted windows that shined with the sunlight and reflected the sky, and all the colorful flora and fauna that flourished inside were a sight. When Emile had first encountered the behemoth building, it was dusk, and the steel reflected the golden rays of the sun along with the pink-purple color of the fading light. In the daylight, the greenhouse was a wonder to behold, that much was for certain. However, Emile wasn't quick to forget how dangerously scary the entire place had felt when something was wrong.

"The Professor should be in," Raoul assured the film maker as he began knocking on the door politely, "And thanks again, buddy. I'm owing you a lot of favors today."

"It's no problem Raoul," Emile gave a resigned smile, accepting his role in Raoul's love story without much reserve. He cared about Lucille and Raoul both, and he'd hate to see them fight over a missed anniversary, no matter how significant.

"Hey, this is going to be the first time you meet him, right?" Raoul smiled down at Emile as they waited for an answer to his knocks, and the Parisian man nodded in response, "Hah, ever since the Professor perfected the giant sunflowers, he's been invited to conferences all over the world. Old guy must be more famous than the Mona Lisa by now." Emile turned to look at the large doors again and sighed. To be honest, he never wanted to go back to the greenhouse ever since that night when Francoeur was first born from their mistakes. It gave him a bad feeling every time he even had to walk by the towering building, and today was no exception as he felt something in the air that he couldn't quite describe. It wasn't until Raoul wrapped an arm around his smaller shoulders that Emile realized he'd been backpedaling. Tipping his hat gratefully to his partner and clearing his throat to make up for the awkward moment, Emile waited patiently with Raoul until Charles came around. The white Proboscis monkey in his dapper beret and vest immediately walked to Emile when the animal saw him, Emile laughing haltingly as the monkey tipped his hat and flashed his teeth.

"I'm happy to see you too, Charles," he nodded before the primate leaped to Raoul, giving the man a slap to the forehead surprisingly. The monkey gave a shrieking cry, holding out a card in front of Raoul's face that the black-haired Parisian had to groan at.

"I know I missed it, why else do you think I'm here?" Raoul responded before Charles jumped off and held another card up for him to read, "...No, Charles, we're not going to create another monster. Having to deal with you is just enough crazy I can get today." Charles took a big breath in before blowing it out through his closed mouth, flubbing his lips in what seemed to be exasperation.

"Wait, how does Charles know about your anniversary?" Emile waved his arm in a belatedly confused manner.

"Well, he likes being a waiter as well as...what was it, 'assistant botanist'?" Raoul bowed low to face Charles' angry face, "Maybe you should just turn in that little outfit for a penguin suit, huh, Charles?" The Proboscis monkey just stuck his tongue out in a raspberry before turning around to screech softly at the elderly man who now occupied the doorway to the greenhouse.

"Professor! Looking scientific as usual!" Raoul greeted with open arms, but the Professor merely stared at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Hello, Professor, it's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance," Emile politely took his hat off and held out his right hand, "My name is Emile, and I'm a friend of Raoul's."

"Ah yes," the Professor's expression brightening at the filmmaker's name, "Emile Petit! I've seen some of your films and they were outstanding, sir. I was actually hoping to have met you sooner, but I understand you must be a busy man." The Professor took Emile's hand and shook it, Charles hopping up on the older man's shoulders with his tail wrapping around his neck.

"I could say the same, Monsieur," Emile chuckled as he looked over at Raoul subtly, "Traveling around the world, conferences, I'm surprised you even had time to watch my films at all!" The younger man studied the scientist as he continued to shake his wrinkled and thin hand.

The Professor was a balding and short man who was just as tall as Emile was, if not just a few inches more. A few sparse tufts of white hair stuck out just at the rim of his head, but nothing else, and a pair of small round spectacles were perched on a large proboscis that, if Emile wasn't so polite, would have mentioned looked just like Charles' own nose had it not been for the thick bushy white mustache underneath. A crisp and formal tan lab coat was drawn around his oddly-shaped frame, which resembled a pear, and it was buttoned up considerably high. In the middle of Emile's quick observations, Charles drew out another pair of cards and took a pen that was hanging on the inside of his vest, writing something down before showing the Professor who stopped shaking Emile's hand almost instantaneously.

"Oh, so this is about that singer girl again, isn't it, Raoul?" the Professor finished the handshake and tucked his hands together over his potbelly, his tone teasing, "You must be quite smitten to be coming on her behalf once more."

"More than you know," Raoul conceded as he scratched the back of his head, "Anyway, I sort of missed this important...thing...with her, and I have to make it up to her somehow."

"You do realize a simple trinket isn't going to make up for missing your anniversary, don't you, Raoul?" the Professor scolded a bit and Raoul sighed before suspiciously staring at the white Proboscis monkey hopping about.

"Okay, Charles, you gotta stop telling everyone about my anniversary," the black-haired man told him in a serious tone, but was stopped when the Professor held up a hand.

"Charles did not tell me it was your anniversary, Raoul," he gestured to the primate to go back inside.

"Then...how did...?"

"Hmmm...well, we have more in common than you think Raoul. I was once young myself, with a young Mademoiselle to keep happy," the Professor opened the door to his greenhouse more and gestured the two young Parisian men inside, "I missed my first anniversary, too." Raoul and Emile looked at each other in slight surprise before walking into the wondrous biosphere. The scenery didn't differ much from the last time they were there, but Emile could see that the Professor had fixed the broken ceiling glass that Francoeur had smashed through a year ago. There were also a menagerie of animals that were roaming about, though they were sectioned off from the laboratory by a picket fence and some rope.

"I was a hard-working man in those days, even more so than now," the Professor continued and walked the pair of friends to his table of chemicals and serums, "All of it was to further my career and provide for my Mademoiselle who I hoped would become my 'Madame'. So busy was I that I had missed my anniversary with her. She was exceptionally livid, and for a few nights, I was a very lonely man."

"So...what did you do?" Raoul asked, sitting on one of the stools that was laying around. Emile similarly took a seat and removed his hat, placing it by the safari hat at the edge of the table.

"I gave her time, but not space," the Professor chuckled as he began gathering a few experimental chemicals, "Parisian women, or perhaps all women, are difficult in that way. They may be mad at you, but if you stop pursuing them for one minute, they become even more furious." He then put a knuckle to his chin and tapped it for a few seconds before pulling out something from under the table. Emile stared at a small box-like apparatus that was covered by a thin handkerchief, the Professor pushing it over to the side delicately before Raoul spoke up again.

"Okay, but I don't think she wants to avoid me," Raoul leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, looking much like a man at a pub asking advice from the bartender, "You don't know my Lucille...she'd be more likely to hit me."

"Then let her hit you!" the Professor reached over and slapped Raoul on back of his head, the delivery man recoiling in a small jolt, "Just so long as she knows you love her, that's what she wants. Why, back when _I_ was a hot-blooded young man, I did what needed to be done for the one I loved, even if it was crazy! It's rare that you see such a quality in you young people nowadays." Emile had to give a little laugh, Charles joining him as Raoul flashed the both of them a small glare.

"Oh, and are you the 'Love Doctor' now?" Raoul sullenly crossed his arms as he let the sting of the slap slowly fade away.

"No, but being married for 20 odd years does make me better experienced, no?" the Professor smirked, making his mustache quiver with amusement, "Now, all you need to do is be with her. If she really does love you as much as you love her, _y__ou_ will be the greatest gift she could get. And don't let that get to your head, a well-placed box of chocolates could also do wonders." Raoul faintly thought of Emile, 20 years down the road and in the Professor's position. Yup. _Exactly alike_. He laughed a bit quietly before clearing his throat and approaching the older Parisian seriously.

"So...you're saying, I shouldn't get her a gift. Or maybe I should get her chocolates?" Raoul asked, a bit disappointed with the Professor's advice.

"She is not my lady to court, Raoul," the white-haired elder waved the man away before tending going to his experiments, "As much as I hate to admit it, you are clever and surprisingly resourceful. I have faith you'll find what you need."

"But-but-"

"I don't suppose I need to remind you what happened last year, hm? Just because it all ended well doesn't mean I've forgotten that it was due to you mussing about in my laboratory!" Raoul held his hands up when the Professor brought a single accusing digit up to point at him, "Besides, I've got more important issues at hand than your love life at the moment!" The Professor pulled out a few newspapers from below the table, many of them showing large detailed pictures of weather disasters across the front.

"A few months after I had you plant those sunflowers in the Seine, there have been strange weather occurrences reported from all over France," he sifted through the newspapers and pulled one dating 9 months before, "Montpellier torn by tornadic water spouts. This one describes macrobursts the size of the Eiffel Tower in Bordeaux a month. Mini-supercells spreading over Nice two months after that, and now - freak storms invading Normandy, which is not very far from Paris may I add!" Emile saw the pictures of raging winds, the public screaming in terror, and the pattern of mayhem that was sweeping across his mother country. He had seen the same newspapers being distributed by paper boys around the city, but with his film career taking off, Emile had been too busy on his projects to take notice.

"...Okay, so bad news with the weather," Raoul pushed aside a newspaper with the heading: 'HAND OF GOD' printed at the top with lightning in the form of a claw reaching over Normandy in the picture below, "Look, what if I said what I needed for Lucille was something you could make?"

"You couldn't afford my services even if you'd had that crazy contraption you called a 'truck' still in your possession," the Professor dismissed the very idea and started collecting the newspapers that he'd spread out.

"Well, a trade then," Raoul suggested with his hands on his hips.

"You have nothing I want," the Professor scoffed as he tapped the papers together so that they'd fall in a neat bundle.

"Knowing me, are you sure there's nothing? Nothing at all?" the smooth delivery man put a hand on the table and leaned, the other hand resting against his hip in a charming manner as he grinned. However, to the Professor it seemed, the gesture was appallingly inappropriate. The old man grabbed a cane resting against the table nearby, its head made of white alabaster and formed in the shape of an eagle's head, and started whacking Raoul over the head with it as he berated the younger man before shoving him out of his laboratory. Emile started to hustle after the pair as Raoul and the Professor continued to argue, but skid to a halt when he realized he'd forgotten his hat. Seeing the white primate in his madcap and vest gathering the newspapers at the table, Emile hurried over and pointed to two figures moving away steadily to the foyer.

"Charles, try to stop the Professor," Emile pleaded with him as he reached for his hat, "Raoul really does want something to give to Lucille to make up for last night. He's just...not very good at expressing his feelings or meaning what he really says when it's about her." Charles nodded and screeched as he flung himself towards the arguing men via the trees and vines that hung about the place. Emile was about to join him when his eyes caught the mysterious item covered by the Professor's handkerchief. The silk cloth was the color of liquid gold and embroidered delicately with a fleur-de-lis pattern around its edges in black thread, one corner printed with the initials 'T.G.' clearly and neatly in silver to contrast. The film maker looked around and saw the three other occupants of the green house still distracted with one another, so he took the opportunity to lift the edge of the cloth to peek.

_Oh blessed saints above!_ Emile dropped the cloth in amazement and put one hand over his mouth to stop himself from yelling out in delight. He took another look at the two men and the monkey to see if they'd noticed his sudden glee, but Raoul had somehow nicked a few potions while they weren't looking and was causing a scene. Several of the animals from the fenced area had gotten loose and now there seemed to be a giant banana that was weighing down some poor tree. Emile then began staring back at the apparatus.

The film maker wrestled with himself, wondering why in the world he was even considering the possibility of it, but after reasoning it logically, Emile nodded and swiped the device from the table, leaving the handkerchief. Part of him was kicking himself for doing such a deed, but Emile just reinforced one singular idea: the look on Raoul's face when he showed him what he'd managed to snag for the lovelorn troublemaker. Besides, he'd return it, Emile just wanted Raoul to borrow it for the moment to make up for his lack of romance these past few months with Lucille. It would have been something praiseworthy in Raoul's book Emile felt as he rushed towards his group of friends, and mentally patted himself on the back for it. Emile then broke up the two warring faction as Charles had sided with the Professor and now both were smacking Raoul as he continued to try and nag the Professor into servitude.

"Raoul, I don't think the Professor wants us here," Emile saw Charles nod vigorously and the Professor blowing air out of his large nose in a huff, "Maybe we should just take his advice and grab a box of chocolates for Lucille instead." Raoul stared at the small man as though he'd grown a second head.

"Okay, who are you, and what've you done with Emile?" he asked, but the Professor took the opportunity to sweep both Parisians out onto the street. When the doors to the ornate green house shut abruptly shortly after, Raoul spun around with indignation.

"Oh, oh, so THAT'S how you're going to take it...huh?" his speech was halting as he pointed a finger at the shadow of the Professor that was slowly fading away, "Fine! I don't need you! I can just...just...oooohhhhh..." Raoul groaned in disappointment, putting his head in his hands as he sat down on the cold stone steps. Emile hoisted his friend up with some difficulty, his right arm sleeve having gotten significantly bulky after the theft, and slung one of Raoul's arms over his shoulders to carry him to the 1911 Penn.

"Cheer up Raoul, you still have a chance," Emile assured him as he leaned the now sluggish Raoul against the car's exterior, "It's not all bad."

"Not all bad?" Raoul repeated in a distant voice before looking at his friend despondently, "I missed our anniversary, Emile. The one time I should've been there with her and I had my head stuck up my - " The tall man nearly finished his sentence until he started eyeing the brunette, hard.

"And what was with you in there? 'Grab a box of chocolates'? The Emile _I _ knew never would've said something like that," Raoul crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, "Or maybe my situation is more hopeless than I thought..."

"Oh, I wouldn't say hopeless," Emile grinned widely before looking back, "But I think we should probably get going. The Professor's not going to be very happy once he's discovered what I've done." Raoul looked at him in slight bewilderment before smirking at his friend in pride.

"What'd you do, you little rascal?!" he laughed as he took Emile's head underneath his arm and rubbed it with his knuckles before he ran towards the driver's seat of the car, "C'mon, I'll get us away from here in 1 minute flat!" Emile put his bowler hat back on his head with a chuckle after he rubbed the pain from his head, happy to see that Raoul understood what was going on. The shorter man darted over to the passenger's seat, and just as Raoul had said, they were already lost in the crowded streets of Paris without so much as a fuss.

* * *

It was already evening when Francoeur rounded the corner to get to the Professor's laboratory, having had to dodge a few adoring fans along the way to get there. He would've just jumped normally, but in broad daylight, Francoeur knew better than to chance such a risky move. Besides, the young women following him were bound to see him if he did Over the past year, the flea had noticed the way the Parisian female population that'd come to visit the _L'Oiseau Rare_ would do those strange flicks of their hair and the way their eyes would suddenly blink rapidly. For a several months, he'd wondered if they'd gotten some sort of disease and it was spreading all over Paris, but in trying to warn Lucille during a public venue on the streets for promotional work, she had managed to clear up the misunderstanding. Through a few fits of laughter, the woman explained that they were flirting with him, as he'd come to realize, and that his current success and tall stature made him a very appealing bachelor to many of the available (and apparently unavailable, as some wore rings on their fingers) women of Paris, young and old.

Some of the words confused him: 'flirting', 'bachelor', 'available'. Francoeur shook his head and looked behind him to make sure he lost the little crowd of girls that were tailing him. They were not very old, even younger than Lucille, and their tiny giggles and quick glances had made Francoeur more than a little uncomfortable, especially when one dropped a glove in front of him and then just stood there, a bold look in her eyes and an aggressive attitude in her stance. In the following moment, Francoeur would stare back at the girl, look at the glove, look back at the girl, then pick up the glove before giving the accessory back with a kind smile.

And for whatever reason that seemed plausible, the girl would take this as a sign to get extremely close to him, close enough to where she was standing on her toes, leaning against him with her arms wrapped around his body.

Again, more than a little uncomfortable since Francoeur didn't know her and that he knew what would happen if she'd found out that he had four arms instead of two. Luckily, several of the other girls in the group pulled her off of him and they began having a feud right in the middle of the sidewalk. Francoeur took his chance and escaped quickly, still running rather than jumping, but it carried him far enough to where none of the girls were in sight. Lucille had warned that he'd needed to keep his defenses up, and this proved to be no exception. When men courted women in Paris, it was polite to be cordial and keep their distance. When it was the opposite, it became more of a cat and mouse game, and in this case, there was only one mouse and many...many..._many_ cats.

"No, no, no, no!" Francoeur was stirred from his revelations on how terrifying Parisian women were when they pursued something relentlessly in packs when he had heard the Professor. The blue insect rushed over to the front door of the greenhouse and tried to open it, but upon finding it locked, he looked around quickly then jumped to the very top of the green house. Slipping in through one of the open windows used to vent the place, Francoeur hopped down and found the Professor frantically tearing through pieces of newspapers, glass flasks, and metal tongs.

"Charles, search the animals' pen! They might have taken it when Raoul set them loose!" the Professor directed the intelligent animal towards the fenced area while he continued to scrounge about. Francoeur gave a chirping sound to greet the elderly man, and started when he heard a loud thump and saw the table being jarred. The Professor came out from under the table rubbing the back of his head before staring up at Francoeur.

"I am sorry Francoeur, I'm preoccupied at the moment, would you mind coming back another time?" the scientist was acting strange, that was certain, but the flea was unable to understand the reason. So, he brought one of his smaller appendages out from his sleeves to stop the Professor from passing him by, giving a trill to show he wanted to help. The white-haired Parisian paused to look at Francoeur before sighing, taking a seat on one of the stools nearby with the singing flea following shortly after.

"Well...I was just cleaning up a visit after Monsieur Emile Petit and Raoul came by when I noticed that I'd misplaced an important object," the Professor explained, grabbing a white lace handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing his brow with it, "And the unfortunate part is that it actually isn't mine. I've had a friend ship it to me, asking for my help with it and now it's missing! I gave the man my word, Francoeur, that I'd see to its repair, and a man never goes back on his word." The blue insectoid nodded and stood up to his full height, putting a hand on the Professor's shoulder to give him support.

"Thank you Francoeur. I will give you double your rations for your services," the elderly man shook his hand, but before he let go, the Professor had a peculiar look dawn on him, "Francoeur, why did you miss yesterday's dinner?" The blue bug brought his hands together to make a bird flapping its wings and sang a little harmony that seemed to make the gears in the old codger's head click.

"I see...it's becoming clear now," the Professor looked out to the foyer of the green house. Francoeur gave a curious tilt of his head, Charles copying him when the monkey came over to the pair.

"I wasn't being senile or forgetful...I was _robbed_!"

* * *

**chiv-id: YEAHHH, THIRD CHAPTER DONE. And this one was significantly longer than the other two so far. Yes, I did take liberties with the Professor's personality, but they never really showed much of him in the movie so I didn't have much to draw from. We are just getting into the beginning of our tale, so be patient guys! Please, review and fav if you like it, and that may quicken the writing process because you guys motivate me a lot by doing that! See you next chapter, hopefully soon!**


	4. Accepter le Changement

**chiv-id: ZOMG you guys, are you excited for this next chapter? 'CUZ I AM. SH*T IS GOING TO FLY, SON! LOL, nah, I'm just joking. Things are going to get a little crazy, but not in that action-packed kind of way. I'm going to mention this again for the second time, but I feel that ****_A Monster in Paris_**** is quite reserved and very romantic, more so than a lot of the other movies I've seen out there. BREATH OF FRESH CINEMATIC AIR, PEOPLE. BREATH OF FRESH AIR. You know, as opposed to the funny quirky love stories, which aren't bad, but there's been so many comedy love stories, it's sort of like watching the same thing OVER and OVER again, with only minor details squelched and redressed.**

**Ahem, so, without further ado, the title of this chapter is called "Accepting Change". Lots of stuff going to be happening in this one, including skimming the surface of a big issue. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_A Monster in Paris_****, Bibo and Europa do. I only own this story and new characters.**

* * *

"Wow..." Raoul had one hand draped across his middle, the elbow of his other arm resting against his rib cage as he put a hand over his mouth in pure awe, "Emile...I mean, this is..."

"Amazing? Perfect?" Emile tried to finish for the flabbergasted man, the smaller man's hands hooking their thumbs in his suspenders as he proudly pushed his chest out, "Once I saw it, I knew that if anything could make up for missing an anniversary, it would be this." Immediately following the filmmaker's plundering, the two Parisian friends set off back to Raoul's workshop, his current residence as well as his job area. It was little more than a garage with only two rooms and one toilette, but at least it wasn't the street and it had running water and electricity. Raoul himself was happy with it, though he did miss sleeping in Catherine's cargo hold more than he enjoyed a full bed in some building run by a cranky landlord named Monsieur Moreau.

"Bravo Emile, never thought you had it in you," Raoul came closer to the wondrous device and stared at it closely, "You ever think about what this was, though?"

"No...not really, it was more of a 'spur of the moment' kind of thing," Emile gripped his bowler hat between his hands, "I just assumed it was one of the Professor's inventions. Besides, I know that we're going to return it right after, right?" The mischievous man looked back at him with a slight smirk and a wave of his hands before kneeling at eye level with the box again.

Unbeknownst to Emile and Lucille even, Raoul considered himself as much an artist as a mechanic. Catherine's build, though a delivery truck, was streamlined for speed as well as beauty. The artwork and design on the sides of his truck was also his handiwork, which took a painstaking 3 hours to paint just one side. And with Raoul's eye for aesthetics, he could see just how exquisite the stolen item was, which was impressively nearly the size of Emile's head.

The box had a curved lid, made from some sort of rosewood by the deep red spider pattern and the fragrant smell of it, with gold foil inlaid at the top in a solid border that followed the arc of the cover with curled fleur-de-lis leaves twirled about the corners and trimming like ivy. And in the center of the lid at the top was a blazing gemstone placed in a gilded ring, a sort of dazzling and brilliant cerulean color inset with phosphorescent green that looked as though it were molten in blue flame. Matching gold hinges were set in the back attaching the lid to the rest of the contraption, an auric plate with a small keyhole inlaid within the front of device to prevent easy access. Raoul traced his finger along the gemstone before continuing to observe a similar golden border from the lid on the box's main body, with a dark etching pattern in the form of intricate curves and arcs as well as detailed diamond shapes lying underneath the auric design. Further inspection showed the right side of the device sporting a strange knob with four fleur-de-lis surrounding it as though it were a flower in bloom. He touched it gently, but left the mysterious protrusion to pick up the box and put it on its 'back', seeing that the box had a bit of a hollow velvet bottom. On the underside was an oval-shaped gold seal, emblazoned with the words '_Made by the AMERICAN ORCHAESTRION COMPANY' _in large lettering and the phrase '_No. 12 out of 50_' in smaller lettering under it. A peculiar lining in the shape of a rectangle just next to the seal gave Raoul pause and he touched it with a single finger, finding that it gave way and depressed. The velvet rectangle flipped in place, and mounted on its darker-colored back was a petite and decorative key that was looked like just the right size for the lock._  
_

"Oh no..." Raoul looked back at Emile who was now sporting a very guilty look on his face, "What if it was a gift for his missus? Or what if it's a bomb? Does he make bombs?" The tall Parisian man took the key from its secret place before standing up, causing the depression to flip the velvet rectangle to its original-colored side.

"No, Emile, the Professor doesn't make bombs," Raoul shook his head and grinned at the small man, "And the Professor told me his wife passed away a few years ago." Emile gave a small sad frown towards the latter part of Raoul's explanation before his eyes widened again.

"What if it was a memento from her?" the young Parisian man looked down with such guilt, it made Raoul nearly feel guilty himself even though he wasn't the culprit, "Oh, maybe this was a mistake!"

"Emile, calm down," Raoul grabbed Emile by the shoulders and forced him to look into his eyes, "Even if it was, we're going to return it without anyone ever having to know. Especially Lucille, all right? I'll give it to her, tell her I got it loaned from...somewhere, then bring it back and let the Professor talk my ear off or beat me to death with that cane of his! I promise. And I'll even tell the Professor that it was my fault."

"No, Raoul, I made the decision to take it, if anyone is going to get the blame, it's me," Emile shook his head, but looked up at his good friend with a shaky smile, "Just promise me that we'll give it back right after, okay?" Raoul stared at the man before his face widened into a grin and he shook the little man's hand, patting his back reassuringly as he came to hug him.

"Yeah, okay," he acknowledged before turning back to the box.

"You figured out what it is?" Emile asked, and he blinked his eyes when the taller man showed him the underbelly of the machine.

"Has to be musical," Raoul confirmed as he tapped the word '_ORCHAESTRION_' before holding up the key, "And important."

"Then, perhaps we should return it now," the brunette again lost his confidence, and Raoul had to roll his eyes before sighing. He might've become a tad bolder since the incident with the ex-Commissioner Maynott, but Emile had yet to truly gain that strong-willed attitude that was becoming of a hero of Paris.

"We're just 'borrowing' it Emile! C'mon, what's the worse that can happen?"

"You said that last time when we went about messing with the chemicals in the Professor's lab!"

"Well, I mean, _besides_ that. The laws of the universe couldn't have written out we make two giant singing fleas in two years, right? Look, no Charles, no animals, no fleas. So, no monsters!" Raoul could see he was losing ground rapidly with the conversation. The impulse that might have overthrown the shorter man's senses when Emile stole the device was beginning to be overridden by the typical common sense that so plagued the cautious filmmaker. So, Raoul took a breath and clasped his hands together, leaning in close to his friend.

"Just trust me on this Emile. Potions might not be my forte, but _this_, gears and switches and knobs, I can handle it!"

"And I know you can, but...I ignored my instincts a year ago when we went into the Professor's lab and-"

"_And_ we ended up having the _greatest_ adventure of our lives! You even got Maud to fall for you, and all those films you made after you got inspired by the whole thing-!"

"The point is: we almost _died_!" the smaller Parisian man had to raise his voice to be heard, and Raoul backed off, having realized how close he was to nearly suffocating the poor man. There was a slight pause as Emile gathered his breath, letting the bowler hat be occupied in one hand while the other gestured during his talking.

"I mean, looking past all the good, it could've been _really_ bad Raoul. If Francoeur _had_ been a monster, if we really _did_ get arrested and thrown in jail for the rest of our lives, if Maynott became mayor and let the Seine flood Paris..." Emile sighed and leaned against a wall, turning his hat over in his hands while looking down, " I do trust you Raoul, but I've just got this feeling that this is something we really don't want to get into. And I don't know how much farther we can push Lady Luck than we already have...can you?" Raoul rocked back on his heels as he stood there, pondering on the situation heavily as Emile dodged his stare. The little man was quite serious about this, shown by the way the mood had hit such an abrupt and cold tone, and the tall deliveryman was more than a little astounded. Emile had always been a little wary, even when they were in grade school, but more often than not, he would normally just go along for the ride with Raoul. No matter the danger or consequences that loomed in the future, Raoul could always count on Emile to be right there with him, thick as thieves, like that night in the laboratory a year ago.

Now...Raoul could feel a sort of distancing between the two of them. _And he wasn't sure he liked it._

With a slight puff of breath blown from his long nose, Raoul crossed his arms and stood in front of Emile with a stoic face. The littler man looked up, his eyebrows knit together in what seemed like a cross between worry and firm resolution. He wasn't really a very courageous man, but when he set his mind to something, Emile was quite the stubborn one. It was then that Raoul softened his own expression, feeling the creases in his eyes and forehead smooth as he realized what needed to be done. If Emile didn't want to be apart of this, be his 'wingman', then so be it.

"All right Emile, here's the deal. I'm not going to shake it or anything, I'm just going to use the key to look inside. A peek," Raoul held his forefinger and thumb together so that there was barely a hair's breadth between them, "And we'll return it to the Professor. I'll just go talk to Lucille, empty-handed or with a box of chocolates like he said. Explain _everything_. And if you want, you can record me saying this with your new camera if you want to have proof. Keep me honest and everything, a man of my word." Emile, despite the strange feeling in his gut that was not unlike what he felt at the Professor's greenhouse, wanted to believe his best friend more than anything. And, just as he'd done a year ago, he squelched the uneasiness and nodded with just a hint of a hopeful smile.

"...All right, just let me get it out of the car first," Emile put his bowler hat back on, smoothing the crinkled edges of the lip as he ran out with a noticeable skip in his step.

Raoul, in the mean time, followed Emile closely and closed the door behind the diminutive Parisian softly. He took a rusty iron key from his pocket and locked the door as quietly as he could before dropping the key back in the breast pocket of his jacket, shaking his head.

Ordinarily, Raoul would've bowed out, done what Emile wanted, but the unsettling feeling of the subtle separation he felt was more than he could understand, or want to understand. Now, for the unknown reason that was festering somewhere in his chest, Raoul felt more motivated to pursue the objective of finding out what exactly the Professor was hiding, wanting to prove that this device was nothing to worry about. Lucille's affections, Emile's friendship, his own worth; they all seemed to dazedly float around the device like sirens of the sea, and Raoul didn't refuse their call. He felt his fingers slip the golden key into the lock, turn it counterclockwise until a definitive click was heard, then closed his eyes before putting a hand on the top of the device. He heard the door shake behind him, then rattle as one of Emile's small hands began pounding the other side of the wooden obstruction.

'Sorry Emile,' Raoul thought in a silent apology to the Parisian filmmaker, 'For whatever reason you think it may be, it's just a music box, buddy.' Despite the fact that he could feel himself fill with apprehension, the lanky Parisian took a small breath and opened the box...

* * *

"Raoul? Raoul?!" Emile continued to pound the door with the bottom of his right fist, the other hand preoccupied with carrying his camera, "The door's locked!" He continued to try and force the door open, but the gentle brunette just didn't have the strength to do so.

"Raoul, what's gotten into you?" Emile asked softly, looking around for a way in. When he couldn't find one, Emile frantically searched his mind for ideas before jumping off the front step of the apartment and rushing to the car. He didn't want to leave Raoul in that state, but being unable to do anything on the outside, Emile decided to get help. Sure, the device didn't seem as dangerous as chemicals in a laboratory, but Emile had to trust his instincts: _anything the Professor worked on was never just as simple or innocent as it seemed. _

The loyal friend put the car into drive and started to head back to the Professor's lab, hoping that the scientist was still there. Emile needed to know what it was, and with Raoul locking himself in his apartment with the mysterious machine, there was only one other person who would know.

As Emile drove through the streets, trying to remember the way back to the Professor's greenhouse, the filmmaker had a bit of time to think to himself. When Raoul had continued pushing him on the matter of investigating the invention, Emile realized it was the first time that he'd finally stood up for himself in front of the tall Parisian man. Sure, he'd done it before to Maynott who had nearly hurt Maud, but putting his foot down to Raoul, his best friend, was much harder. He knew that the man was desperate to not show up in front of Lucille empty-handed with only words, but Emile also knew that all Lucille wanted was for Raoul to show up at all, according to Maud's inside information. The Professor certainly wasn't wrong about that.

However, now the delivery man seemed hell-bent on getting Lucille an outstanding gift rather than just simply going to Lucille and apologizing for all the missed appointments. Emile shook his head again. A year ago, Emile was in the same position as Raoul now. Wracked with nerves and unsure of how to go about it, Emile had often daydreamed on going on imaginary dates with Maud and getting tongue-tied as he tried to think of some grand or magnificent way to sweep the sweet woman off her feet. That is, until Raoul gave him the simple and romantic idea of sending her a letter. That was why Emile was so compelled to help his best friend. Had it not been for Raoul's suggestion and encouragement, the shy casanova would never have had the chance to date the beautiful Maud, or marry her for that matter. So, Emile flew off the handle and did something crazy for him. If he had known how embroiled Raoul would be with it, though, Emile never would have stolen the Professor's invention in the first place...

The film maker eventually reached the greenhouse, though he'd gotten lost several times since Raoul was the more learned of the two when it concerned the streets of Paris, and the sky was highlighted in orange and purple tones as the sun started to set. Emile stepped out of the 1911 Penn and straightened his jacket, preparing himself for the Professor's rage that would no doubt come, but when he checked the door, Emile found that it was locked.

A sign reading '_AWAY_' snuffed the last hope Emile had to finding out what the device was by the end of the day. With a slightly sickening feeling, the small man climbed back into his vehicle and started heading back to Raoul's apartment, hoping that nothing terrible had happened while he was away.

"_STOP!_" Emile nearly felt his heart leap up out of his throat as he braked suddenly, the quiet Parisian streets echoing with the accusation. He had been driving rather mindlessly when it occurred and he felt his wits scattered and frayed as Emile looked around. It was then that he saw the hulking shadow of Francoeur and heard the hurried tapping of a white alabaster cane of the Professor against the sidewalk, with Charles huddled on top of Francoeur's shoulder. He was livid, as expected, but the flea's appearance was sort of a surprise to Emile.

"Raoul!" the Professor wheezed as the excitement strained his lungs, making his way to the car haphazardly as Francoeur held his arms out in case the old man toppled, "Raoul stole something of mine!" Charles jumped down from Francoeur's shoulder and shrieked alongside his master, waving his arms about as he did so.

"I apologize, Professor," Emile pulled over to the side and got out of the Penn Model 30, taking his hat off and holding it tightly between his hands, "It was wrong, and I promise you, it will never happen again."

"Yes, you are certainly correct about that!" the bushy white mustache of the elder bustled as he finally got to Emile, "That man is _never_ allowed to come back to my laboratory, understand?!" Charles gave one last final shriek before jumping over to the car, searching through it for the device supposedly.

"Professor, it wasn't Raoul who stole the device."

"And for another thing I-!" the Professor lost his steam as he blinked and stared at Emile in a confused way, "Pardon?" Charles popped his head up from the seats of the vehicle before joining Francoeur in staring at the pair of humans.

"I stole the instrument, Professor," Emile looked away guiltily, his small form getting smaller by the second, "It's just...it was a very beautiful box and I thought it might be something Raoul could borrow to win Lucille's forgiveness back."

"That...that was a very _big_ mistake, Monsieur Petit!" the Professor smacked the man on the top of his round head with his cane, receiving an exclamation of pain from Emile, "Do you not realize borrowing without permission is _stealing_, Emile?! You are rather lucky I did not contact Inspector Pate about this!" Emile nodded as he rubbed his head dejectedly before he heard a sigh. He looked up at the sound and saw the Professor putting both of his hands on the cane and pointing his head down in disappointment. Francoeur was standing next to the man, towering over the Professor with a worried look as Charles flubbed his lips in exasperation.

"He must be...quite important to her, hmm?" the Professor asked and Emile gave a small 'yes' to answer before Charles swung down to the Professor and chittered in a sad way, "...I can understand such a love, so I will hold off on Raoul's banishment from my premises. However, this does not excuse your crime, understood?" Emile nodded, glad that this didn't end up worse than it really was. He gave a small wave to Francoeur and Charles to greet the previous host-and-parasite and the two animals waved back with small smiles.

"Where is Raoul? I should like to talk to him, too, as well as get my object back," the Professor looked around and Emile was once more reminded why he needed to see the elderly scientist.

"That's right! Professor," Emile ran over to the other side of his white car and opened the passenger's side door, "You need to come with me! And I need to know what it was I took. If it's dangerous, I think Raoul might be in danger." Francoeur and the Professor looked at each other before the old man climbed into the seat. Francoeur, being his side, just mounted the back of the vehicle and hung on as Emile started the car and drove off, heading back to Raoul's apartment.

"Before I tell you about the box, Monsieur Petit, I would like to give you some advice," the Professor began as the film maker as he rounded a corner, and Emile glanced at the white-haired man to show he was listening, "You really should be more concerned with your own personal matters than Raoul's, my boy. It isn't healthy." Emile continued driving along the slowly emptying Parisian street and looked at the Professor with a confused gaze.

"'Trying to support my best friend's love life' isn't healthy? I just want him to be happy."

"Yes, but you stole for him, Monsieur Petit. And now, he may be in danger because of it." Emile didn't have much to retort to the true statements, but he just shook his head and continued the conversation.

"I've always been with Raoul, Professor. He's my best friend. And that's the way things have been, always."

"Then, perhaps things need to _change_."

There was a strange unsettling feeling in Emile's stomach as the Professor spoke, and the small man gripped the wheel a little tighter as they traveled along. Change was all that happened last year. Francoeur and Lucille became famous world-wide, Emile had gone on to become famous for his romance films, Maud dated and married him, the Seine was drained using genetically-modified sunflowers, Raoul...

Emile's eyes widened slightly. _Raoul_. _**Raoul.**_

Raoul had sacrificed much last year. That ridiculously prickly faux-coat, his standing with the Professor, and Catherine. His livelihood, beloved invention, and even home. And the rather good-hearted rascal had accepted it all with just a single tear shed for Catherine. The only highlight that came from the event was his new-found love for Lucille, but now, even that was going sour. Emile wished that he'd been more observant, which he normally was being a film maker, but Raoul's grin and easy-going antics were quite deceptive, and in analyzing everything that had been going on, the small man could barely imagine the struggle Raoul had been hiding all this time. Him. His _best friend_. The guilt surged through his system like lightning, and he sighed before turning to see Charles and Francouer gazing at him without a single sound, though their combined concern was not very well-hidden.

"What about the device, Professor?" Emile decided to change the topic, something that had not gone on unnoticed by the trio of scientist and animals.

"It is a music box," the balding innovator confessed, and the rattled young man had to look back at the Professor in disbelief.

"So it's just a normal box?" he tried to say it affirmatively, but Emile still had a bad feeling in his gut.

"I did not say that," the Professor pulled an envelope that was the same golden color as the napkin that was on top of the box in the greenhouse, "It is a revolutionary item, Monsieur Petit, and I was able to see a demonstration of it while I was in New York. My colleague, however, told me that this was merely a show. The real product had not yet been completed, and that he needed my help to do so. He even sent me this letter with all the schematics and efforts put into the machine."

"Well, what does it do, besides play music?"

"I cannot tell you. I was sworn to keep the real function a secret by my colleague, I'm afraid. Thus, I cannot reveal anymore than its basic purpose, which is as you've stated," the Professor apologetically explained, "However, on the journey here, the apparatus fell into disrepair. Trading vessels of wine-loving captains are often the bane of many goods, as it were. And I was trying to fix the mechanical aspect of the music box before _you_ stole it from my laboratory!" The Professor had to take a deep breath before continuing, his bushy white mustache being blown by the wind as they soared past another park.

"In any case, Emile, I fear more for Raoul at this point. Before the wrecking, the device was incomplete and unsafe for human interaction. Now that the basic technology is faulty, I'm afraid Raoul may be walking straight into a catastrophe!"

The grave look on the Professor's face and vague description of the trouble they were in did not ease the film maker's worry as they continued. Emile gripped the wheel hard as he pressed the gas pedal near to the floor and drove through the streets of Paris with a roar in his Penn Model 30. He knew he had a bad feeling..._why didn't he trust his instincts?!_

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**chiv-id: YEAH, ANOTHER CHAPTER DOWN. Jesus, I really should write shorter chapters. If I did, these would be coming out faster. Anyway, now you know what Emile stole from the Professor's lab, or at least a general idea, and that Raoul isn't just tampering with just some normal box. REVIEW AND RATE PEOPLES AND I WILL SEE YOU NEXT CHAPTER.**


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